


A Daily Dose of Vitamin Dick

by GiantPurpleCephalopod



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Face-Sitting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiantPurpleCephalopod/pseuds/GiantPurpleCephalopod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Note, the consent issues warned of above are slight*.</p>
<p>Kirk has been poisoned. McCoy discovers a bizarre antidote that could save his life - semen.</p>
<p>*WARNING* This story is full of ridiculousness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spock and McCoy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, or hold any rights pertaining to the characters and/or universe contained therein. I do not intend to infringe upon anyone else's rights or to cause any offence by my use of aforementioned universe and characters in this work of fan fiction.
> 
> Warning: This work contains explicit content of a homoerotic nature. If this will offend or distress you, please click the 'back' button now. On a lighter note, my grammar is also suspect - you can similarly escape the horror of bad grammar by clicking the 'back' button if you believe this will offend you ;)

Chapter One:

 _09:32, ship’s time. The U.S.S._ Enterprise _speeds to the rescue of an isolated research station whose life support systems have failed. Back up systems will not sustain the researchers for more than 72 hours. There are no other Starfleet vessels close enough to get there in time …_

Captain James T. Kirk - charismatic leader, bold explorer, and drop-dead gorgeous all-round heartthrob - was seated in his Captain’s chair like a king upon his throne. Around him the bridge was all a-bustle, but with the cool, calm professionalism expected of deep space veterans. After all, to serve on the _Enterprise_ you had to be one of Starfleet’s finest.

The Captain turned his head and acknowledged the approach of his First Officer, Commander Spock, the savant half-Vulcan who also served as the ship’s Chief Science Officer. The movement threw his profile into sharp relief, strikingly regal and handsome, with the bright lights of the bridge gilding his golden-brown hair.

“Will we get there in time, Mr Spock?” Kirk queried, his voice deep, smooth and pleasing to the ear.

Spock came to halt beside his Captain’s chair, his posture perfect and his hands clasped gracefully behind his back. “Yes, Captain, providing there are no delays,” he answered in a melodic baritone.

Kirk turned again, his gaze directed to the red-shirted form of his Chief Engineer, Montgomery ‘Scotty’ Scott at the Engineering console. “How’s she holding up, Scotty?”

“Ach, our lady’s doin’ just fine, sir. She’ll get us there in time, never ye fret.”

Kirk nodded in acknowledgment of the engineer’s report, the expression in his hazel eyes still pensive. “Something feels wrong to me, Mr Spock,” he murmured so that none but the Vulcan’s keen, pointed ears would hear. “I always get a bellyache when something’s amiss, and I’ve got a beauty starting right now.”

The First Officer’s eyebrow arched as he replied dryly: “I place no faith in feelings of ill omen, Captain. To do so is not logical.”

 _“Nevertheless,_ my belly’s never wro-”

At that moment Kirk was interrupted by the whistle of the intercom. He pressed the button in the arm of his Captain’s chair.

“Kirk here.”

“Jim, it’s McCoy.” The voice of the ship’s Chief Medical Officer and Surgeon came over the intercom as clearly as if Dr McCoy were standing on the bridge, and not in his office in Sickbay. “I need you to come down here right away. It’s a matter of the utmost urgency.” “What did I tell you?” Kirk muttered to Spock. Into the intercom he said: “Alright, Bones, I’ll be right down.” As he rose from his chair, Kirk gestured for the Vulcan to follow him. “Mr Spock, you’re with me. Scotty, you have the conn.” With that, Captain and First Officer stepped out of the command well and into the turbolift. The lift’s red doors _hissed_ shut behind them.

Dr McCoy was clearly unsurprised to see Spock follow the Captain into his office. The old country doctor was seated at his desk, a decanter of brandy in front of him, and a half-filled glass in his hand. The look he gave Kirk was grim.

“Take a seat, Jim. I’ve got some bad news.”

Kirk settled himself in the chair across the desk, Spock coming to stand behind him. When the Captain spoke his tone was crisp, authoritative. “Don’t beat about the bush, Bones. What is it? Is my ship in danger?”

McCoy shook his head, answering in his husky Georgian drawl. “No, Jim - just you. I’ve just had a call from the High Priest and the Chief Physician of Planet Canaan IV.”

The _Enterprise_ had been stopped at Canaan IV to represent the Federation at an important three day religious festival on the Canaanite calendar. The unexpected emergency at the nearby research outpost had meant that the _Enterprise_ had been forced to leave early, attending only the first day of the festivities. The Canaanite King had been very understanding about the whole thing.

Kirk’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand, Bones.”

McCoy’s fingers flexed around his glass. “You remember that big golden cup the High Priest gave you to drink out of yesterday, Jim, after all the bru ha ha with the lady in the white dress and the man in the mask with all the feathers?”

Kirk glanced up at Spock, exchanging a bewildered look for an arched eyebrow. “Yes. It was something fermented, and not really very nice. What of it?”

“Well, it turns out that it’s sort of - well, Jim, it turns out that they’ve _poisoned_ you.”

Kirk blinked in surprise, his eyes going wide as he half-rose from his chair. _“What?”_ Commander Spock stopped him with a calming hand on his shoulder. The Vulcan’s gaze was fixed with more than its usual intensity on Dr McCoy.

“Can you elaborate, please, Doctor? Is this a deliberate attempt on the Captain’s life- and do you expect it to succeed?”

Kirk swallowed. The usual golden glow was draining from his face, leaving him looking grey and weary as he sank back into his chair.

McCoy shook his head. “It’s part of the festivities, apparently. The ‘Chosen One’ is given that noxious concoction to drink on the first day and then … well, what happens on the third day is supposed to act as the antidote, I suppose, as well as the culmination of the festivities. Apparently it’s a great honour to be chosen, though I really think they should have discussed it with you first. They were trying to make a good impression, I think. As soon as they heard that we’d had to leave the High Priest and the Physician contacted Starfleet.”

Kirk sat stunned, not knowing what to say. Spock shifted slightly behind him. “Did the Canaanites provide you with an antidote, Doctor?”

“They did, but I’m not sure how you’re going to take this, Jim. I suppose the silver lining to all this is that you’re not finding out what they had expected you to do in a temple full of riled-up religious zealots who’d probably all go beserk if you tried to say no-”

Kirk glanced up sharply. His natural air of command was beginning to reassert itself, though the grim news he had just received made his temper waspish. “Dr McCoy, cut to the chase, please. What, exactly, is this antidote?”

“It’s ... semen, Jim. The Chief Physician advised me that you need to ingest a sufficient quantity of semen within the next 36 hours or you’ll die.”

The Captain stared at his friend for a long moment, the colour rising in his cheeks. All of a sudden he surged to his feet, looming menacingly over both doctor and desk. When he finally spoke his voice (significantly louder than it was before) shook with anger. “That isn’t funny, Bones! You really gave me a scare!”

“Dammit, Jim!” McCoy’s face turned equally red and he thumped the table with his fist, causing a padd and other assorted bits and pieces to jump, spill and rattle. “This is no joke!”

Kirk’s mouth opened, his face now beet-red, but Spock’s quiet “Captain,” made him think better of his angry retort. Taking a deep breath, though his fists remained balled at his sides, Kirk glared down at his friend, who took a moody sip from his drink.

“Bones, you _cannot_ be serious.”

“As the _plague,_ Jim. Now, from my conversation with their Chief Physician, the biochemical composition of Canaanite semen is basically the same as ours, except that they have much, much higher concentrations of certain amino acids and trace minerals. That means that while one shot of Canaanite spunk would be sufficient to cure you, you’re going to need to drink a lot more human semen to achieve the same result. A _lot_ more - at least five times as much.”

“Can’t you just whip up a hypospray to do the job?”

“Not with the supplies I’ve got left - two thirds of our medical supplies were destroyed by the fires that magnetic anomaly started when it shorted everything out last month, remember? That’s why our next stop after Canaan IV was supposed to be a rendezvous with the _Lexington_ to pick up more.”

Kirk’s expression was sour. “If this is some sort of elaborate hoax, Bones …”

The doctor thumped the table again. “Jim, this is serious! You could _die._ God forbid you should learn to ask what’s in a strange alien concoction before you drink it.”

Kirk folded his arms across his chest and huffed. “Some bedside manner you’ve got there, Bones. You’ve just told me I’ve been poisoned, and now you’ve told me I’ve got to suck down a load of spooge or I’m going to die.”

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t swallow, Jim. I accidentally walked in on you and Gary that time, remember? As I recall, you had no problems milking _his_ pole.”

 _“Gentlemen,”_ Spock’s deep, mild voice cut through the burgeoning argument like a hot knife through butter. “While your colloquialisms are fascinating, arguing will not solve our dilemma. It seems we have two options - the first, to return the Captain to Canaan IV for the completion of the ceremony, or, the second, to attempt to source a cure for the Captain from on board the _Enterprise.”_

Kirk sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he sank back into his seat once more. “Bones, I’m getting a headache. Spock, how much longer can those researchers hold out?”

“Back up life support systems will fail in approximately 71.36 hours, Captain.”

Kirk accepted the little blue pill McCoy gently pressed into his hand and swallowed the analgesic with a mouthful of brandy from the glass the doctor passed him. “There’s no way we could return to Canaan IV and then make it back to them in time.” He closed his eyes as a shudder wracked his shoulders. “It’s going to have to be a great big load of human cum, then, isn’t it? I … I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do it, Bones. The idea of drinking down a cup of cum …” Kirk actually retched a little. “It’s making me sick to my stomach.”

McCoy, gentled down by his friend’s distress, patted him consolingly on the hand. “Now, Jim, it’s not all that bad. One quick swig and you’re done. It’s not even like it’s something you’ve never drunk before.”

Kirk shook his head, his handsome features twisted in disgust. “No - no, that’s different. In the heat of the moment … but in a cup .. _ergh_. And then how do we even go about getting men for me to …. Starfleet is never going to agree to this!”

Spock cleared his throat, drawing the attention of both Kirk and McCoy. “Do I understand you correctly, Captain, that you are not actually opposed to the ingestion of seminal fluid, so long as it is, to use your term, ‘in the heat of the moment’?”

Kirk swallowed and licked dry lips. “No, I suppose not. I mean, I don’t do it all the time - sometimes I’m just not in the mood.”

After a brief, awkward pause Dr McCoy coughed. _“We-eell_ , Jimmy boy, I suppose if it makes you more comfortable, there’s no reason why it _has_ to be in a cup, if you know what I mean?”

Kirk pulled a face at his long-time friend.“If you wanted me to suck your dick, Bones, all you had to do was ask.”

McCoy _harrumphed_ slightly. “I’m just sayin’.”

There was another, much longer pause. Eventually, and to McCoy’s evident surprise, Kirk heaved a sigh and then nodded, his ‘I’ve made up my mind’ face on. “Ok. Thanks, Bones.”

McCoy flushed. ““Aww, hell, Jim, you’re my best friend, and I’m sure ‘n blazes not going to let you die!” He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. “And I … _may_ have fantasized about you in the shower from time to time.”

Kirk looked up at Spock when the Vulcan placed a hand on his shoulder once more, this time giving him a reassuring little squeeze. “I too offer my services … Jim. As First Officer it is my sworn duty to protect the life of my Captain - by whatever means necessary. And, like Dr McCoy, I have also indulged in imagining what it would be like to lie with you.”

Both Kirk’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Oh,” he finally responded, having opened and closed his mouth several times. “Thank you, Spock. I-” Now it was Kirk’s turn to blush. “I must confess that I have had similar thoughts about you - _both_ of you - before now too.”

“Well then,” McCoy tossed back the remaining brandy in his glass and set it down on the table with a _clank._ “What are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Wait a minute,” Kirk rubbed his suddenly sweating palms against the black fabric of his uniform trousers. “Who else? You said I’d need five times as much?”

McCoy rose from his chair. “Jim, why don’t we start with what we’ve got, and we’ll worry about that later? Spock? You lock the door.”

As the Vulcan complied, McCoy walked around his desk to stand in front of Kirk, offering him a hand up from his seat. “You’re sure this is what you want to do, Jim? You still look kinda nervous.”

Kirk nodded determinedly. “Our other option doesn’t bear thinking about.” He glanced down to where the doctor was still clasping his hand, running a warm, calloused thumb soothingly over his knuckles. Spock, having completed his mission to lock the door, returned to stand behind him, this time stepping close enough to ghost the tips of his fingers along the hard tendons in Kirk’s neck, making his Captain shiver at the feather-light touch. “The good doctor is right - you are very tense, Jim.”

Kirk closed his eyes as Spock started gently kneading at his neck and shoulders. The Vulcan’s strong, dexterous fingers seemed made for massage. McCoy stepped closer until they were pressed chest to chest, winding an arm about Kirk’s waist, still moving the pad of his thumb in small, constant circles across the back of Kirk’s hand.

“Just relax, Jim. Let us take care of you.”

Kirk exhaled slowly, his eyes still closed, letting his head fall forward to rest on McCoy’s shoulder. He _was_ nervous. He knew he had a reputation - sweet-talker, heartbreaker, ladykiller. The truth was, though, that he wasn’t just a player, looking for the next score. No, deep down inside Jim Kirk was a soft-hearted romantic who fell in love far, _far_ too easily. And each time he fell hard it was that little bit harder to pick himself up again afterwards when it inevitably didn’t work out - when she had to go back to her planet, or turned out to be trying to kill him, or take over the _Enterprise,_ or capture him for use as her own private stud, or - even worse, when she - or he - _died._ The two men currently causing him to shiver all over with their skillful, skillful hands - he could so very easily fall for them, either of them. He had always known it - in some ways he already had. He had tried so hard to guard his heart from them, but it was no use. If they did this now the last of his defences would be gone- but what choice did he have?

Warm, soft lips brushed the back of his neck. Kirk let out a small gasp and opened his eyes.

“Jim,” Spock’s deep, melodic voice thrummed through him. “You have nothing to fear. You are more precious to both Leonard and I than you know.”

McCoy pressed a sweet, tender kiss to Kirk’s cheek. “You’re a fool, Jim Kirk. You’d trust either of us with your life, but you won’t trust us with your heart?”

“It’s not like that, Bones. To have either of you in that way, and then to lose you - it would _end_ me.”

“Shh,” McCoy kissed him again, whilst Spock leaned down to nuzzle his neck, stating firmly: “We shall _never_ leave you, Jim.”

“It’ll be alright, Jim. Trust us. _Please.”_

Kirk sighed softly and closed his eyes again as he finally let go of the last of his walls and allowed himself to melt fully into their embrace. “I trust you,” he answered softly.

A few more minutes of cuddling had Kirk feeling much better - and therefore much more his usual, smart-mouthed self. He smirked cheekily as McCoy undid his belt and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor, his sure, surgeon’s hands pushing Kirk’s trousers down his hips.

“I don’t actually need to be naked, you know, Bones.”

The doctor shushed him with a kiss. “I know- but I’d like you to be. If that’s alright with you, that is?”

Kirk nodded, letting McCoy help him first out of his trousers and then his gold command shirt. The doctor took a step back to admire his captain standing in the middle of his office in nothing but his underwear.

“What? Like you said, Bones, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

McCoy smiled broadly. “Doesn’t lessen my appreciation for the view any.” His hands dropped to his own belt. “How about you, Spock? Like what you see?”

Kirk shivered in both pleasure and anticipation as the Vulcan bent down to inhale his scent from the juncture of shoulder and neck. The next moment Kirk was gasping as Spock bit down sharply, his teeth sinking deep into the muscle of Kirk’s shoulder. Strong Vulcan arms wrapped snugly around his waist kept him trapped as Spock sucked a dark, obvious love bite onto Kirk’s skin.

“No hickies,” Kirk protested half-heartedly as those long, clever Vulcan fingers walked teasingly down the firm muscles of his stomach, which twitched and shivered at the tickle. Down, down, the Vulcan reached, until his fingertips brushed feather-light against the firm bulge in Kirk’s underwear. “Ooh, you cock-tease,” Kirk panted, unable to help the way his hips rocked forward, seeking more contact. “I never would have guessed, Mr Spock.”

A long, deep, rumbling growl reverberated through the Vulcan’s chest and he nipped Kirk on the ear. “It is most titillating when you refer to me as ‘Mr Spock’ while in such a position, Jim. I should appreciate it if you continued to do so for the duration of our encounter.”

McCoy laughed as he stepped out of his own trousers with a rustle of fabric. He had shucked off his underwear as well, revealing a patch of dark, curly pubic hair and an impressively large member, long and pink and almost fully hard. Kirk made an undignified whimpering noise - happy whimpering that is - and ground his ass back against Spock.

“I’ll call you whatever you like, Mr Spock, if you’ll only hurry and join Dr McCoy here in being pants-less. I am most definitely ready to go.”

To prove his point he pushed his crotch against Spock’s hand, letting the Vulcan feel the sizeable erection that was straining to break free of his underwear. Spock pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the side of his neck and stepped away to remove his own trousers, leaving McCoy free to approach and slide his hand under the taut white fabric of Kirk’s trunks.

Kirk crooned in appreciation as he was gently squeezed and massaged by McCoy’s skilled, calloused fingers. This was wonderful - he couldn’t believe what he’d been missing out on all this time, all because he had been too afraid to take the plunge.

Spock returned to his place against Kirk’s back in record time, wrapping his arms around Kirk again and adding his own clever fingers to McCoy’s. Kirk’s eyes fluttered closed and his head lolled back rapturously against Spock’s shoulder. Together the two men divested Kirk of his underpants, nuzzling and kissing and caressing their captain into a boneless, quivering puddle.

Kirk mewled in disappointment when all four hands were suddenly removed from his body.

“Now, now, Jim,” McCoy’s Georgian drawl had grown so thick and husky he was nearly impossible to understand. “You need to take your medicine like a good boy, remember? On your knees - it’s time for your daily dose of vitamin dick.”

Kirk sank down to the regulation carpet compliantly, kneeling between Spock and McCoy. He was utterly naked, on his knees, a pink flush in his cheeks and his proud erection bobbing gently every time he moved. Spock and McCoy both still wore their science blues, but were naked from the waist down. McCoy was much like Kirk in appearance, though his pubic hair was darker. Spock though - Kirk had sometimes wondered what Spock would look like naked. The now revealed truth was that he looked much like any other man, but for the colour. The long, elegant member - now brushing gently against Kirk’s cheek as he leaned forward to nuzzle at it - was green in the places where Kirk and McCoy were pinky purple.

Kirk thought it looked magnificent. And the sight of Spock and McCoy together … it was enough to make a man’s mouth water.

He seized each pleasantly warm phallus in a gentle fist, suckling the tip of one and then the other, back and forth and back and forth, humming softly with pleasure as he compared the tastes. Spock curled his fingers in Kirk’s golden-brown curls, one eyebrow arched in a way that was oh-so smug, while McCoy let his head tip back and groaned very quietly.

Encouraged, Kirk redoubled his efforts, slurping and sucking, pressing forward as far as he could possibly go whilst pumping smoothly with both fists. He’d never actually sucked off two men at once before - he was more of a ladies’ man, normally - but what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. Neither Spock nor McCoy seemed to have any complaints, though the doctor did seem to need to lean on Spock’s shoulder after a while - Kirk couldn’t resist pausing in his work long enough to snicker: “Need a chair, old man?”

Spock tugged gently on his hair to redirect his attention back to the matter at hand, and Kirk missed the doctor’s muttered reply. He couldn’t have answered anyway - his mouth was full. He concentrated on working Spock with his tongue, savouring the surprisingly tart flavour of the few little drops that slipped out as he swirled it around and around the plump head. When he moved to McCoy he could almost taste the brandy the doctor always seemed to be sipping.

McCoy clutched onto Spock with both hands now, his knees starting to tremble. Kirk pressed his advantage without mercy. The doctor groaned, long and low, shaking his head. “‘M too old for this … not gonna … last,” he panted out, before suddenly seizing Kirk hard by the back of the head.

Kirk opened his mouth as best as he could, mindful of McCoy’s comments about medicine and the reason they were doing this in the first place as he gulped down the torrent that flooded his mouth, accompanied by a long string of heavily accented curses. He sucked hard to coax out the last few drops until McCoy let him go, patting him a little haphazardly on the head before stumbling back to his desk to drop down heavily into his chair.

Spock was yet to finish, though, and Kirk rushed back into the fray with renewed gusto. He grabbed hard onto the Vulcan’s thighs, Spock’s strong hand on the back of his head firmly guiding him as he bobbed on and off. Kirk was starting to wonder if Vulcans’ were particularly known for stamina in the bedroom - his jaw was beginning to protest - when Spock grunted, groaned and then apparently came a small waterfall down his captain’s throat.

When it was finally finished, Kirk sat back on his heels, licking his hips and panting heavily. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that - this was not at all how he expected his day would be going when he got out of bed this morning - but he was very glad he had. Not least of all because he was going to die from some bizarre alien poison if he didn’t, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed giving the other two men pleasure more than he could remember doing so with anybody else.

Spock and McCoy shared a look, before each moved to sink down on his knees beside Kirk. The captain sighed happily, wiggling his hips as he was gently pushed down on his back, before two hands - one sure and calloused, the other fine but strong - closed around him and brought him to that sweet, sweet peak of ecstasy in just a few quick strokes.

All three sat (or lay) quietly for a few minutes, catching their breath. Then McCoy clapped his hands together. “Well now! Who wants a brandy?”


	2. Scotty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannd next up to the plate is Scotty (ooh, that accent!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually had this chapter just sitting there for a little, partly because I've been working hard on Walk A Mile In My Shoes and partly because it was just so damn short. I felt like I needed to make it longer - but, you know, I was re-reading it and I was really very pleased with it, and figured I would post it as is - I mean, why spoil a good thing, right? So, here it is, short and sweet!

Lt Commander Montgomery ‘Scotty’ Scott, Chief Engineer of the U.S.S. _Enterprise,_ was the last to slip into the briefing room, looking around in puzzlement as he slipped into his seat. Captain Kirk was in his usual seat, looking rather rumpled, a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Next to him sat Commander Spock and Dr McCoy - Spock as immaculate as ever, but somehow radiating smugness despite his usual lack of expression, and McCoy looking somewhere in between the two of them. Scotty took his seat alongside the Chief Helmsman, Lt Sulu and the Navigator, Ensign Chekov.

“Gentlemen,” Kirk clasped his hands together on the table in front of him. “I’ve asked you all here on a matter which requires the strictest confidence. Under no circumstances are you to reveal what I am about to say to you to any other member of the crew - is that clear?”

All three chorused their assent, exchanging curious glances. What could have happened now?

Kirk exhaled slowly. “Alright, then. Whilst participating in the festivities on Canaan IV I have been poisoned. The Canaanite Chief Physician has advised Dr McCoy that the antidote for this poison … is semen. I have-”

“Precisely 33.29 hours, Captain,” Spock interrupted primly.

“ - thank you, Spock, 33 hours left in which to ingest a sufficient quantity of semen to prevent the poison from being fatal. Mr Spock and Dr McCoy have each already made a contribution to my cure.”

Kirk paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “This is not something I’m ordering you to do - I wouldn’t make it an order, even if I could. But I am asking each of you to consider assisting me in this matter.”

A dumbstruck silence settled over the room.

Dr McCoy cleared his throat. “For some reason Jim here refuses to divulge, he finds the idea of us all just leaving him a sample in a cup revolting, though he’s willing to go that route if that’s what it takes. If any of y’all are willing, however, he would prefer - well, let’s call it a ‘direct injection’, shall we?”

The Captain blushed. Scotty coughed, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Sulu. Finally it was Chekov who spoke up. “But sirs,” the Russian laughed nervously. “It is not April.”

“This is no joke, Ensign,” Commander Spock advised sternly. “Your Captain’s life is in peril, and we each have the means of contributing to his saviour.”

“Ahem, yes, thank you, Mr Spock.” Kirk coughed and raked a hand nervously through his hair. “I just want to reiterate that this is a request for volunteers. I understand if it’s not something any of you want to do.”

Scotty thought for a moment before reaching a decision. “Ah’ll volunteer, sir. ‘Tis hardly the most onerous task I’ve had to undertake durin’ my time with Starfleet.”

Sulu smiled. “I’m with Scotty. It would be my pleasure to assist, Captain.”

Chekov grinned bashfully. “Well, when you put it like _that_ … I’m in too.”

Kirk’s shoulders sagged with relief, a wry, slightly bashful smile quirking his lips. “Thank you - all of you. Now … how do we want to do this?”

“As Mr Scott was the first to volunteer, Captain, I suggest he go first,” Mr Spock suggested, sounding just as if they were handing out normal, everyday assignments. Scotty nodded his acquiescence, licking dry lips nervously. _The Captain was really going to … he’d thought about it before, obviously - who hadn’t had a fantasy or four about Captain James T. Kirk? - but he’d never seriously considered that he’d get the chance …_

“Right here, sir?” he heard himself ask. He watched, mesmerised, as the pink tip of his Captain’s tongue darted out and swiped over his lips.

“If that’s alright with you, Scotty - we can go somewhere else if you’d prefer?”

“No, no - here’s just fine, sir.”

Scotty had to dry suddenly damp palms on his trousers. His heart was beating a rapid tattoo against the inside of his ribs. He’d never had his dick sucked in front of an audience before, and it was making him a little nervous.

Still - his increased heartbeat, breathing and pulse, the feeling of warmth flushing through his body, the tightening of his pants - nervousness wasn’t the only thing he was feeling. His pants became downright painful as he watched Kirk stand and walk around the table to him. The next thing he knew, Kirk was in his lap.

The Captain was not a small man - the warm, solid weight of him was impossible to ignore. Scotty closed his eyes as Kirk leaned in to kiss him - he tasted of brandy and something else - some other, undefinable flavour that was uniquely Kirk and made the engineer think of sunshine and good, aged Scotch and the beautiful, melodic purr of a warp core working at maximum efficiency.

Scotty groaned deep in his throat as Kirk, who had one arm wrapped around his back, slipped a hand beneath the scotsman’s shirt and stroked his way up to palm and squeeze a nipple. Scotty pushed his hips upwards, grinding against Kirk’s firm body. Breaking their kiss he planted fierce, sloppy kisses along his Captain’s jaw and down his neck, savouring the taste of sweat and salt on his skin. Kirk gasped and _moaned_ when Scotty found a fresh love-bite on the crook of his neck and worried at it, giving it a good nip and then soothing the inflamed area with his tongue, the sharp tang of blood flooding his senses.

 _“What_ is with all the biting?” Kirk grumbled softly as Scotty palmed and kneaded the firm swell of his buttocks.

“Sorry, sir,” Scotty said, unable to keep an unrepentant grin off his face and a twinkle out of his eye. “Ye’re just so tasty.”

Kirk snorted and grinned back. The next moment he was slithering backwards off Scotty’s lap to kneel on the floor, pressing his face into Scotty’s crotch to nuzzle at the bulge there. Scotty’s hands gripped the arms of his chair - hard - as Kirk began undoing the engineer’s belt with his teeth.

It was clearly something Kirk had done before. It took him a few moments, but with surprising speed and deftness he had Scotty’s belt undone and his fly open, mouthing at the scotsman’s bulging erection through his regulation underwear.

Scotty’s eyes fluttered closed and his head lolled back as Kirk pulled him out of his underwear and swallowed him down. “Ach, _aye_ …” the engineer breathed as he was engulfed in hot, wet heaven.

Kirk was _good_. Kneeling between Scotty’s spread legs he kept his hands on the engineer’s thighs, his golden-brown head bobbing up and down. He ran his tongue firmly along the underside of the scotsman’s straining erection with every stroke, up and down, up and down. Every once in a while he would spend a few moments lingering over the head, lavishing it with attention from his tongue. One hand slipped from its place on Scotty’s thigh to stroke and fondle his balls, squeezing and massaging carefully.

It was pure bliss.

Scotty opened his eyes once more. Looking down, he was glad that he had. Kirk was looking up at him, his hazel eyes wide and sparkling, something smug, challenging and downright cheeky dancing in their depths. The Captain’s cheeks were hollowed out as he sucked, his lips wet and slick and darkened from the force of their kisses and everything since. Scotty watched, fascinated, as his own turgid erection disappeared into that oh-so-sexy mouth over and over again.

It was too much - no man could be expected to last long under such expert ministrations - not to mention the extra surge of adrenaline the knowledge that Sulu and Chekov and the doctor and Mr Spock _(oh god, he was having his dick sucked in front of Mr Spock!)_ were watching was giving him. It was just too much.

Scotty dug his nails into the arms of his chair, unable to hold in the grunts and groans that came spilling out of his mouth. His legs tensed, his back arched and his toes curled in their regulation boots as his orgasm overtook him.

Kirk closed his eyes, sealing his lips around Scotty’s cock, milking him for every last drop. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“Ach.” Scotty finally collected his orgasm-scattered thoughts enough to speak. It was going to be a good, long while before he was game to try standing up, though. “Do you think someone could run along to my room and grab a bottle o’ scotch? The good stuff’s in the cupboard by the bed.”

Kirk flopped back to sit on the floor, looking tired but pleased with himself. “Scotty,” he grinned up at his friend, “that is an excellent idea.”


	3. Sulu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sulu's turn, and Kirk puts on a little show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm so sorry it's been such a long time since I've updated any of my works in progress, but I've been busy, sick and unproductive.
> 
> Secondly, this chapter has a bit of a different tone from the first two. It's a little more serious and a little more rough. I hope y'all enjoy it.

Kirk prowled impatiently around Sulu’s cabin, examining the way the helmsman had artfully displayed his possessions on the walls as he waited for the other man to finish in the shower. Whilst Kirk’s own cabin walls were mostly bare, Sulu’s sported an eclectic collection of objects representing his hobbies and interests. A delicate, well-tended bonsai sat in pride of place beside the bed, which Sulu’s fencing foil hung above. A small collection of potted plants were dotted here and there about the place, each, from the looks of things, sourced from a different planet. Framed examples of traditional Japanese calligraphy, done in a most elegant hand, hung side by side on the walls with Sulu’s collections of antique weaponry. One display featured three beautiful katana against a background of deep red, whilst another showed off a collection of highly polished and clearly much loved antique pistols. Sulu had music playing, slow and twangy and surprisingly soothing, and Kirk found himself heaving a deep sigh, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension in them as he let his eyes fall closed.

He should have taken a nap after Scotty. He was feeling very tired. His jaw was sore. But, even though he knew he still had 32 hours, give or take, in which to ingest the rest of his cure, he wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible.

He’d never been very good at waiting.

“Captain?” Sulu’s deep, somber voice snapped him out of his weary thoughts and he turned to see the helmsman, who was now dressed in a dark, satiny looking dressing gown, setting a tray down on his desk. On it were two small, handleless cups and a small, round, handleless jug, all made of the same dark, shiny ceramic material. Kirk couldn’t remember ever seeing anything quite like them before, and wondered if they were very old.

“Sake?” Sulu enquired with all the patient dignity and quiet aplomb of a master butler. Kirk nodded, swallowed against a throat gone dry and scratchy. “Thank you.”

Sulu lifted the little jug carefully in both hands and filled both cups. “Traditionally, etiquette would dictate that you hold out your cup to have it filled,” he explained as a small stream of almost clear liquid flowed smoothly out of the jug. “But, as this is hardly a formal setting, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Kirk accepted the cup gratefully, taking a careful sip of dry, smooth wine. The aroma of it still sharp in his nose, he rubbed his free hand against the leg of his trousers to dry his damp palm. This certainly felt pretty formal to him - not at all the easy, joking camaraderie that he and Bones and Spock had shared in Bones’ office earlier, that had so put him at ease.

“Captain,” Sulu began, setting down his own cup. “Please,” Kirk interrupted automatically, “Jim will be fine.”

A small smile curved Sulu’s lips, lifting and wrinkling his cheeks. It took some of the austerity out of his face. “ _Jim_ ,” he began again. “I have a request to make of you. If it makes you uncomfortable you may, of course, decline.”

Kirk nodded his understanding. “Go on.”

“I should like for you to address me as ‘sir’ for the duration of our encounter.”

_Ah._ Kirk had played this game before, if not for a while. _Why not? A chance to give up control and just_ relax _sounded like exactly what the doctor had ordered …_

“Yes, sir.”

Sulu’s smile widened for a moment, his eyes twinkling gleefully, before straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. A stern mask dropped into place over his features. He sat down on the end of his bed, back ramrod straight, his hands on his knees. His tone when he next spoke was crisp and commanding.

“Then remove your clothes and kneel at my feet.”

“Yes, sir.” Kirk set down his sake cup and stepped forward so that he was standing in front of Sulu. An idea came to him. He seized the bottom of his gold command shirt with both hands. Instead of just ripping it off, however, Kirk pulled it off slowly, making a show of revealing the muscular body underneath. He thought that he saw a little spark in Sulu’s eye as he did so.

Once his shirt had been peeled off, the Captain neatly folded it and placed it on the floor, out of the way, making sure to turn and give Sulu a good look at his ass in profile as he bent over to place the neat little square of fabric down. The helmsman’s expression did not change, but Kirk was sure now - he definitely saw a gleam in Sulu’s eyes. His performance was appreciated.

He toed off his boots and placed them next to his folded shirt. His socks quickly followed. The Captain took his time with his belt, though, watching Sulu carefully for more signs that his little strip tease was working. The other man was good at keeping his expression carefully, sternly blank, but Kirk saw the way his nostrils flared as he slid the belt free and let it drop on top of the pile.

Kirk hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his black uniform trousers, sliding the material down tantalisingly, teasingly slowly. His skin shivered into goose bumps as the slightly coarse fabric rubbed over it. Inch by inch he pushed it down, revealing muscular thighs and regulation underpants that were being severely stretched as they fought to contain his burgeoning erection. The calm, cool, implacable way in which Sulu was regarding him, keeping totally in control of the situation, was really quite a turn on.

His pants finally off he folded them and put them aside. Now all that was left was his underpants. Kirk couldn’t quite suppress his all-over shiver when the pleasantly cool air touched his over-heated skin as he slowly pulled them down. The tiniest hint of a satisfied smirk was hovering on Sulu’s lips as his captain’s erection, purple and straining outwards, bobbed free of its confines.

Naked, Kirk sank to his knees on the regulation carpet, suppressing his slight grimace at the scratchy feel of it. He settled himself with his hands comfortably clasped behind his back, his erection jutting out proudly. It briefly crossed his mind that Sulu might prefer him to bow his head, eyes down, but he decided to keep his chin up, his eyes focused on Sulu’s chest, at the point where that dark, silky-looking robe parted slightly to reveal a hint of golden-bronze skin. He could enjoy the view more that way.

The Captain, however, could not help the brief flick that his eyes made downwards, seemingly of their own accord, to the increasingly obvious tenting of the fabric in Sulu’s lap. It took all of his willpower to keep his satisfied smirk off his face.

Sulu stood without saying a word, his hands dropping to the fastening of his robe. Kirk stayed staring carefully straight ahead as the helmsman’s nimble fingers undid the ties, letting the robe slowly fall open to reveal the fact that he was naked underneath. Lean and lithely muscled, his athletic body gleamed a soft golden colour beneath the fluorescent lights. His darkened cock stood out as proudly and rigidly as his fencing foil, a neatly trimmed little thatch of dark, curly hair surrounding its base.

Kirk swallowed, his mouth starting to water, and a tense, excited heat beginning to build in his belly.

Sulu stared down at him dispassionately, his expression carefully schooled into a passable impression of Mr Spock.

“You may begin.”

Kirk leaned forward, the smell of sandalwood flooding his nostrils as he did so. He carefully flicked out his tongue to lap experimentally at the helmsman’s plump, purple head. He tasted differently to Spock and Bones and Scotty, a flavour that was all his own. It made Kirk think of tea gardens and that fresh, wet smell that you get after rain. Sulu’s cock twitched gratifyingly under the Captain’s ministrations.

Kirk slid his tongue down the prominent vein underneath and then back up again, for a little swirl around the head. Down again, to lightly suck and lick at the other man’s scrotum, then back to the head. He could hear Sulu’s breathing getting heavier and he upped his game, licking and sucking and swallowing down the engorged organ as far as it would go. He hummed around it and felt Sulu shiver in reply.

They went on like this for several minutes until the gentle brush of Sulu’s fingertips against the side of his face made Kirk look up. The other man’s face was flushed, the dark colouration starting to creep down his neck. His face was still carefully, sternly blank, but Kirk could read the delighted smirk in his eyes. Sulu was having fun. The persistent throbbing between his legs told Kirk that he was too.

“It’s time to try something a bit different … Jim. If at any time you wish to stop, you must say the word ‘honour’. If you say any word else, no matter how you plead, cry or beg, I will not cease my actions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Kirk shifted slightly, to alleviate a twinge in his knees. A little tingle of excitement chased its way up his spine as Sulu nodded curtly. “Very well,” the helmsman said. And, with that, Sulu suddenly changed his grip on the back of Kirk’s head, both hands now tangled in his hair.

Kirk barely got his mouth open in time to accept the first strong thrust of Sulu’s dick, right down into his throat. Kirk moaned as his head was held utterly still by Sulu’s strong hands. It had been a long time since someone had fucked James T. Kirk’s face like this. Out of practice, Kirk couldn’t help but gag once or twice, but Sulu just made a little growling noise deep in his throat and kept going.

He reached up to grasp onto Sulu’s strong thighs, the slippery fabric of the dressing gown sliding beneath his fingers. But Sulu barked “Hands down!” and so Kirk complied, clasping them behind his back again, squeezing and knotting his fingers together as Sulu slammed into him again and again.

This was, by far, the roughest blow job Kirk had given in quite some time, and there was definitely some discomfort - though some of that could be attributed to the overuse his jaw had already received that day- but it was _good_ too. It was hard and rough and just, just right.

Breathing heavily, Sulu eventually slowed down some, going back to holding onto Kirk by the top of the head with just one hand, the other resting on his hip. Kirk had a little more freedom to move now, bobbing his head up and down himself as best he could to meet Sulu’s thrusts. No matter what, Kirk always believed that a job worth doing was worth doing well.

By the time Sulu started making little warning moans and mewls both men were lathered with sweat. Kirk’s jaw was _aching._ He wouldn’t have been surprised if it just dropped right off. He was doing his best to get enough air in through his nose, as he was spending a lot of time with it buried right in Sulu’s ticklely, scratchy pubes. He was making strange, snore-y, snuffly noises, and he was loving every minute of it.

All of a sudden Sulu wrenched Kirk’s head right back, a huge, deep groan escaping him as he dropped his hand to his cock and pumped furiously. Great, sticky strings of ejaculate exploded from the head of his cock, and Kirk opened his mouth wide to catch as much of it as he could. He had to close his eyes as some of it fell across his nose and forehead, as well as landing in salty stripes across his tongue and dribbling down his chin. It seemed to go on forever. Kirk couldn’t help it. He knew he didn’t have permission to touch himself, but he dropped his hand to his own erection anyway. He was so hard and turned on that a few quick pumps was all he needed to spill his own load all over the carpet.

Finally, panting and blowing, Sulu let him go and sat back on the bed, slumped forward, his stern mask finally cracking as he was unable to suppress the goofy, well-fucked smile playing around his mouth. Kirk carefully opened his eyes, blinking as the lashes of his left eye stuck together. He licked as much of the stray cum off his lips and chin as he could, and resorted to wiping the rest off his face with his hand and sucking it off his fingers. Tired and sore as he was, he couldn’t help but feel a pleased little tingle at the way he saw Sulu’s eyes light up as he watched this process like a hawk.

Suckling the last of his digits clean, he climbed a little shakily to his feet. He hadn’t realised how sore and red and carpet-burned his knees had gotten, until now, having been so preoccupied with his face. His fingers were aching too, they informed him, from his having been knotting them together so hard. Grunting softly as one of his knees creaked in protest, he sank down onto the bed beside Sulu.

“Are you alright, Ca- Jim?” Sulu asked, sounding much more like his usual self, albeit winded. For the first time since the Captain had come to his door he sounded a bit uncertain of himself. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

Kirk, still panting too, shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. “No, no, I’m good. I enjoyed it. I haven’t done anything like that for a long time, though. Hooo!”

The Captain let himself flop back onto the bed, the mattress soft and yielding beneath him. The adrenaline that had spiked in his body during their exuberant intercourse was ebbing away, leaving nothing but weariness and a luxurious, heavy feeling as endorphins flowed through his limbs. “‘M just going to close my eyes for a minute. Don’t let me fall asleep,” he murmured drowsily to Sulu.

He felt the mattress shift as the other man stood up, heard Sulu walk across the room and his footsteps as he returned a few moments later. Something warm and damp was gently wiped across his face, taking the last of the stickiness away. “Don’t worry, Jim, I won’t,” he heard Sulu say, as a blanket was carefully laid over him and tucked up under his chin.

Kirk mumbled a little, sleep closing over his head. He didn’t see Sulu smile and shake his head fondly at his Captain as the former started to snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next - Chekov, Pavel Andreievich!


	4. Chekov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chekov's turn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The things my mind comes up with, honestly ... anyway - enjoy!

Kirk sighed softly as he stood outside Ensign Chekov’s door, rubbing at a crick in his neck. Although he had napped in Sulu’s bed for 2 hours or so, he had woken up feeling worse, rather than better. Even a quick, refreshing sonic hadn’t helped. His body was aching all over, like he’s just gone 10 rounds with a Gorn. Except for his jaw. _That_ felt like it had been sucker punched 10 times by aforementioned Gorn, _then_ made to suck off 4 guys in a row.

Still, he now had less than 30 hours to make sure he’d swallowed enough semen to be cured, meaning that he didn’t feel like resting. He wanted to get this done and over with - _now_.

In spite of his _blegh_ mood, when the door slid back with a _hiss_ to reveal a clearly nervous (judging by his oddly frozen grin) Ensign Chekov, Kirk made sure to push aside his lack of enthusiasm and greet the younger man with a genuine smile.

“Keptin,” the russian stepped aside for Kirk to enter the room. “Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Kirk didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings. Weariness had suppressed his usual curiosity, so he just looked at Chekov instead.

“Can I get you a drink, sir? I hawe wodka, if you would like some.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, En- Pavel.”

The captain sank down to sit on the end of the ensign’s bed while Chekov hummed softly to himself as he poured them each a drink. Kirk barely even noticed the burn as he tossed the clear spirit back.

Chekov downed his drink and also took a seat on the end of the bed, his hands clasped together in his lap.

“So, sir … how would you like to do this?”

In all honesty, Kirk was fighting the urge to lie down. 2 hours of sleep obviously wasn’t enough to cut it. Then inspiration struck.

“Have you ever 69ed with another man before, Pav?”

Chekov’s face brightened up at once. “Oh, no, sir. But I hawe done so with many women, and I hawe always wanted to give it a try with another man.” The young man actually bounced slightly in his excitement. “Where do we begin?”

Kirk shook his head in rueful amusement at the lad’s enthusiasm - he wished he could muster such energy at the moment. “Well, how about we start by removing our clothes? Then we’ll lay down. Oh, and Pavel … you needn’t call me ‘sir’. Jim will do just fine.”

Chekov bounced to his feet straight away, ripping off a dashing salute, complete with broad, cocky grin. “Yes, sir!” While Kirk shook his head in fond bemusement, the boy all but tore off his clothes … revealing to Kirk just _why_ he was so damned popular with the women on board.

“Well, I’ll be …” Kirk breathed. _“Pavel,_ that is one _hell_ of a big cock you’ve got there.”

The young ensign was glowing all over with pride. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Kirk’s jaw gave a little twinge of apprehension as he took in the sight of the mammoth appendage, but he ignored it. Captain James T. Kirk _never_ backed down from a challenge. Besides which, looking at all that beautiful cock … it was finally starting to turn him on, at least a little.

He began to remove his clothes too, standing up to take off his trousers. Once he was nude Kirk lay down on the bed, stretching himself out on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He knew he looked good like that, and Chekov’s enthusiasm was starting to be catching. He could see the appreciative gleam in the younger man’s eyes as he ogled his captain’s heavily muscled form.

“Come up here, Pav.”

The russian ensign clambered up onto the bed. Kirk directed him so that they were both lying top-to-tail on their sides. There wasn’t really any foreplay involved, but from the way that Chekov was clearly champing at the bit to get going, Kirk didn’t think he minded. The young russian even licked his lips as he hovered inches away from Kirk’s slowly stirring member (he had already come twice today, after all), his eyes fixed on its little jumps and twitches as if they were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

Kirk wasn’t surveying Chekov’s erection with quite as much enthusiasm. The damn thing was _huge_. Given that he already had a sore jaw, Kirk actually found that the idea of sticking the gargantuan thing in his mouth caused him a bit of trepidation. Still … this would be the last act of fellatio that he would have to perform in order to be cured.

Gathering up his resolve, Kirk reached an arm over Chekov’s smooth, warm thigh and pulled him closer with a hand pressed to his buttock, draping himself over one of the younger man’s legs. He wrapped his hand around the russian’s proudly upstanding cock, which was very warm against his palm, the skin deliciously soft despite the rigid interior. He leaned in closer, the mingled smells of regulation bodywash and Chekov’s own fresh, youthful scent teasing his nostrils.

He parted his lips and took the plump, juicy-looking pink head of the younger man’s cock into his mouth, suckling softly and bobbing his head slightly up and down as he pumped the lower part of the shaft with his hand. Chekov tasted sweet and salty all at once. Kirk made sure to dribble a little, sliding his hand up to catch the spill and use it to moisten the rest of the shaft. He soon had a nice rhythm going, his hand quickly and firmly working the now nicely-slicked shaft and his mouth lavishing attention on the head. His other hand was busy squeezing and kneading the taut, tantalising flesh of Chekov’s buttock.

Kirk closed his eyes and hummed softly with pleasure as Chekov’s ever-busy mouth enveloped his own cock. Though slightly inexpert, this clearly wasn’t the russian’s first rodeo.

His ears filled with Chekov’s pleased gasps and whimpers, Kirk decided to pick up the pace. He began to use his mouth in earnest - in spite of the protest from his jaw. Stretching his mouth wide enough to accommodate Chekov’s massive member was no small feat - his lips would be dark and swollen from the way the titanic organ was crushing against them, and it took all of Kirk’s considerable skill and experience to keep his teeth from scraping too much against the other man. His cheeks were burning from the stretch, and there was an unpleasantly tight not-quite-pain feeling in his temples. He hoped he didn’t end up with a headache.

In spite of all of this, though, Kirk started bobbing down further, taking more and more of Chekov’s cock into his mouth. Given its vast girth and the way he still felt unpleasantly stretched from being face-fucked by Sulu, Kirk didn’t want to deep throat the young ensign’s enormous pole - but, all of a sudden, that was what Chekov was doing to him.

Kirk moaned and whimpered, digging his fingers into the younger man’s firm, ripe flesh hard enough to leave bruises. Chekov’s own fingers were wandering feather-light up and down the back and the inside of Kirk’s thigh, or ghosting teasingly over his perineum. A delicious shudder wracked the captain’s frame.

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t think about it. The harder Chekov sucked on him, the harder he sucked on Chekov. The deeper Chekov swallowed him down, the deeper he swallowed down Chekov. The faster Chekov bobbed his head up and down, the faster Kirk bobbed up and down on Chekov.

It felt like his face was splitting. There was saliva _everywhere_ \- trickling down Chekov’s cock, over Kirk’s hand, down Chekov’s balls. Kirk could feel it on his chin, and on his throat and running down his chest. His own crotch felt similarly wet.

There was nothing sweet or tender or loving about what they were doing. It was both a relief and slightly unsettling - Kirk had come to Chekov’s quarters expecting to have to guide the younger man, to be the kind and compassionate older lover who would be gentle and, well, _mentoring_ , only to find that disparity in their respective talents wasn’t all that great.

It seemed that Kirk’s position as most accomplished lover on the ship was in serious danger …

_The boy needs to learn some humility, though_ Kirk thought, and then wondered if that would be the pot calling the kettle black.

Kirk wasn’t sure how long the two of them were locked together, each competing to bring the other ever-greater pleasure, only that he was beginning to be genuinely afraid that he might black out. Just as he was about to pull away for air, however, Chekov’s hips bucked and the ensign let out a deep, guttural groan. Kirk felt his cock pulsing in his mouth and then, the next moment the captain’s mouth was being flooded with sweet/salty cum.

There was too much, too much cum, too much cock in his mouth for Kirk to swallow it all. Some dribbled out between his lips and ran down Chekov’s still-twitching cock, slopping over Kirk’s frantically pumping hand.

Finally Kirk was able to pull away with a great, gulping gasp, like a man finally surfacing from deep water. Chekov’s softening cock slipped free of his lips, slick and sticky, and although both his lips and tongue had passed aching and gone straight to numb, the exhausted captain carefully lapped up as much of the spill as he could. He let his head fall to the spit-dampened mattress as soon as he was done, utterly spent.

Except for his cock. At his age, on its third round of the day, that thing wasn’t going to blow quickly. Chekov’s ministrations, however, had been too marvellous for his erection to simply fade away now - at least, not in a hurry.

“Keptin?”

Kirk opened his eyes at Chekov’s enquiring tone. At the same moment he felt the gentle touch of the ensign’s finger at the twitching entrance to his body. He looked down at the russian between his legs, long brown hair mussed and tousled and sticking up in every conceivable direction, cheeks flushed pink, lips wet and dark, eyes sparkling.

Kirk nodded his assent, inhaling sharply in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort as the younger man’s spit-slicked finger pressed inside him. It burned a little, but the next moment Kirk’s toes were curling as Chekov’s finger pressed into that spot inside of him that made him see stars. He flexed his hips upwards reflexively as Chekov’s mouth descended on him once more, every muscle in his lower body taut and straining.

The dual stimulation to his cock and prostate soon proved enough to tip him over the edge. He gasped, panted, even _sobbed_ , clutching at the sheets as orgasm overtook him.

It took both men a long time to come down. They lay quietly, a messy tangle of sweaty limbs, until they each had their breath back. Kirk cautiously tried moving his jaw and immediately stopped, wincing. He would have to get Bones to check it …

Chekov was the first to recover. “Daaa…...” the young ensign crooned happily as he un-entangled himself from the pile. Post-orgasmal bliss seemed to have made his accent even thicker than its norm. He had a goofy, ear-to-ear, well-fucked grin on his face. “Zat … zat was _amazing_ , Keptin.”

Kirk nodded, too exhausted to talk. He wanted sleep and a sonic, but he couldn’t decide in what order …

He must have dozed off. One moment Chekov was talking to him, the next Spock and McCoy were there, shaking him awake and coaxing him to his feet. Bones was saying something about Sickbay and tests and ‘just to make sure’. Kirk just stood there dumbly as they manhandled him back into his uniform.

He had to lean on both of their shoulders as they carefully guided him to Sickbay. The plain grey walls seemed to be spinning around him, and he couldn’t stop himself from fretfully asking Spock over and over if his ship was alright. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool.

He dozed off again in a chair in Bones’ office, only to be startled awake by the sharp _hiss_ of the doors.

Bones was there, leaning down with his arm extended, like he’d been about to shake Kirk’s shoulder again.

“Jim!” the doctor blinked in surprise, righted himself. “Good, you’re awake. I’ve got some bad news …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to do one last chapter ... because I want to do Spock and Bones again. Yum!


	5. Spock and McCoy - The Finale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't actually what I originally had in mind, but hey, who am I to argue when a good idea strikes? Hope y'all enjoy!

The grogginess in Kirk’s head slowly dissipated under whatever was in the hypo that Dr McCoy had carefully slipped into his arm. Spock was there too, standing behind him, one hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder. Kirk turned his head to nuzzle against the Vulcan’s clothed wrist, and Spock, to his captain’s surprise and delight, responded by gently stroking Kirk’s hair with his other hand, those clever, clever fingers gently massaging his scalp.

“Okay, Jim,” McCoy crooned softly, giving him a pat on the shoulder. It was a familiar, comforting gesture. “Feelin’ better? Any nausea?”

“I’m alright now, Bones,” Kirk assured him wearily. “The room isn’t spinning anymore.”

McCoy nodded, but his expression was still pensive. He shared a quick glance with Spock. 

“Jim, the dizziness, disorientation and fatigue you’ve been experiencing are all symptoms of the poison spreading through your system. Now, I’ve run some tests and I’ve also consulted with the Chief Physician on Canaan IV while you were sleeping. We still need you to swallow more semen to get this thing beat. It’s also possible that all the alcohol you’ve consumed today has diluted your cure somewhat. But that’s okay, because the Chief Physician and I are pretty sure we shouldn’t need too much more. If Spock and I - forgive my crassness - give you a second nut’s worth each, then that should be enough to get you over the line.”

Kirk sighed. He hated the note of plaintive whine in his voice when he says: “But Bones, I’m so _tired.”_

“I know, darlin’, I know. That’s why I’m recommending - _as your doctor_ \- that you let us fill you up a cup. One quick chug, and this’ll all be over. Whadda ya say, hmm?”

Kirk shook his head, no. He knows it must seem totally illogical to the other two, but he just _can’t._ Not after that trick that Gary pulled on him …

He heard Spock’s soft inhale, and the Vulcan’s fingers went still in his hair. That’s right. Skin-on-skin contact, his scalp and Spock’s fingertips. The Vulcan must have been privy to the memory of that disturbing image going through his mind. That _incident_ was the reason that he and Gary broke up, leading to all that resentment that he had foolishly denied the other man was hiding, until he tried to destroy Kirk and the _Enterprise …_

“I have a proposal, Leonard,” Spock firmly interrupted Kirk’s wool-gathering. “As Jim is too fatigued to stimulate either you or I to the point of ejaculation, I suggest that we undertake the task ourselves. Then, when orgasm nears, Jim can take over and thus receive the … ah … dose.”

Kirk’s ears pricked up. “You two - you two would suck each other off in front of me?” he asked hopefully.

McCoy’s mouth opened and closed silently as he looked at Kirk, then at Spock - but then his expression cleared, and he smiled. “Would you like that, Jim darlin’? ‘Cause you know I’d do just about anythin’ to put a smile on that pretty face.”

“As would I,” Spock rumbled softly.

In spite of his exhaustion, and the way his jaw felt like he’d been smacked in the face with a sledgehammer, and the fact that he’d already cum three times in less than 24 hours, a feat he hadn’t been up to for at least a good ten years, the thought of seeing Spock and McCoy together in that way … well, suffice it to say, it got Kirk’s warp core purring..

“Yes.” He said breathlessly. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Alright then,” McCoy actually clapped his hands together, business-like, the way Kirk had seen him do countless times before, as he looked about the room. “I think we should move locations. Say, to the Captain’s cabin. That way, Jim can lie down and we can always lay down beside him, making it easy for him to join us, should he feel like doing so.”

Spock inclined his head in agreement. “An excellent suggestion, Leonard.”

Kirk gladly accepted their hands to help him out of his seat. For a moment all three stood together, holding hands. Both Spock and McCoy gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, before letting his fingers slide through their own before exiting the Sickbay. Both men stayed close beside their captain, however, as the trio made their way to his cabin. One or other of them would sometimes gently touch his elbow, or the small of his back, as if to steady him, or perhaps assure him they were still there.

The doors to Kirk’s cabin _hissed_ open and he went straight to the bed, sinking gratefully on to the red and gold checked sheets. McCoy bent over him, helping him arrange the pillows comfortably under his head. When he was done, the old country doctor bent down and gave his captain a kiss - long, slow and sweet, their tongues twining together languidly. Kirk sighed softly when the older man finally pulled away.

Spock stepped up behind Dr McCoy, his hands resting lightly on the smaller man’s hips. The doctor righted himself, a ticklish little chuckle escaping his lips as Spock nuzzled the side of his neck. The Vulcan inhaled McCoy’s scent deeply, much as he had done with Kirk … however many hours ago it was. Kirk could still smell McCoy himself, a particular blend of sharp antiseptic, warm brandy and the doctor’s favourite mint, but he knew that Spock’s sense of smell was so much stronger than his own. He wondered what McCoy smelled like to the Vulcan … and then he stopped thinking for the time being, because that would only be a distraction from the heart-stopping, breath-stealing, truly _magnificent_ sight unfolding in front of him.

McCoy turned around in Spock’s arms and wound his own about the Vulcan’s neck, his fingers tangling in that always-perfect bowl cut, causing raven dark strands of hair to stand out in all directions. Both had their eyes closed, faces tilted as they brought their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss that looked like heaven and surely felt even better. Spock was running his hands up and down the doctor’s back, two fingers on each hand pressed together in a gesture Kirk vaguely remembered seeing between Spock’s parents when they were on board. He thought that he had heard it described as a Vulcan ‘kiss’, but he wasn’t entirely sure … he was finding it rather hard to think ….

The Vulcan’s hands were questing under McCoy’s shirt now, sliding up and down the warm skin of his bare back. The doctor shivered in Spock’s arms, moaning softly into his mouth. Kirk realised that they must have been conversing mind-to-mind, because, when Spock broke the kiss, he murmured: “as you wish” as he pulled away.

McCoy’s strong, skilled hands dropped to Spock’s belt. Kirk realised that he was holding his breath as the doctor pushed his black regulation trousers off the Vulcan’s slim hips. Even though he’d seen them both naked - well, from the waist down, at least - had _been_ with them both not more than a day ago, there was something … he’d never watched before. This was _new_ and _exciting_ in more ways than one, and his exhausted cock didn’t care how much use it had had of late, it was making its desire to go all over again well and truly known. Kirk absent mindedly slid his hand into his trousers as McCoy finally got Spock’s pants all the way off, and carefully knelt down on the carpet before the Vulcan.

Spock was half-hard when the good doctor pulled him free of his regulation underwear - but he didn’t remain that way for long. McCoy wasted no time in taking the Vulcan into his mouth, sucking him to his full and considerable girth at Warp Factor 5. Spock’s long, elegant fingers tangled in McCoy’s hair as the doctor bobbed back and forth. They were side-on to Kirk now, and the hard-breathing captain was being treated to a magnificent view of his first officer’s spit-slicked, green-engorged cock disappearing into his CMO’s mouth and sliding back out again over and over again. Ever-stoic, Spock wasn’t one for moaning, but even he couldn’t keep his breathing from getting heavier and heavier. Meanwhile, McCoy was making enough noise for the both of them, grunting and gulping and slobbering everywhere. 

Spock closed his eyes, his eyelids scrunched together hard, upswept eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. He extended a hand towards Kirk. The captain marvelled for a moment at the minute trembling of the digits. Then, not sure if this was what Spock wanted him to do, not even entirely sure why he did it, Kirk pulled himself up onto his knees on the bed, and, without further ado, leaned forward and sucked Spock’s fingers into his mouth. He twined his tongue in and out and around the shivering digits, revealing smugly in the gasp this finally pulled from the quiet Vulcan.

Spock bucked his hips, once, twice, his fingers clenching in McCoy’s hair. The doctor pulled off with a great gasp for air, his hands on Spock’s hips. “Jim, quick! He’s gonna cum!”

Kirk scrambled forwards, half hanging off the bed on his belly, as McCoy deftly manouvered Spock to stumble in his direction. Kirk reached out, snagged Spock’s warm, wet dick in his hand, got his mouth over the tip and _sucked_ for all he was worth.

A deep, rumbling growl that would not have sounded out of place coming from a large, predatory cat, tore from Spock’s throat. At the same moment Kirk’s mouth was flooded with hot, salty cum. He sucked and swallowed for all he was worth, milking out every last drop.

Eventually, Kirk wasn’t getting any more, and he let Spock’s softening dick slide free of his lips. The Vulcan was panting, looking uncharacteristically rumpled - until he noticed the twinkling eyes and amused grins on the two humans beaming up at him. He sniffed and gave himself a little shake, his shoulders setting, his hands falling to their habitual position behind his back, his ever-present expression of blank dis-interest falling back into place and his breathing mysteriously snapping back to normal. He looked just as he would have done standing at ease on the Bridge - but for the fact that he had no pants on. Kirk was once more strongly reminded of a cat - the way the barn cats at his uncle’s farm back in Iowa would occasionally slip and stumble - and always, always make out like that was exactly what they had meant to do. A great surge of _fondness_ for the Vulcan, stiff-necked pride and all, washed through him.

“You are both exceedingly talented when it comes to fellatio,” Spock rumbled. McCoy laughed, having flopped down on the bed next to Kirk on his back, propped up on his elbows. His black regulation trousers were impressively tented. When he shifted, Kirk’s own rather impressive dragged against the bed beneath him, a glorious combination of pleasure and irritating friction.

“That - that was quite a sight to see,” Kirk said, wriggling a little against the mattress. McCoy, smirking smugly from ear-to-ear, glanced over at him and broke into a huge, toothy grin. “So is your ass, Jim. Your pants are falling down.”

Kirk blushed, and McCoy laughed, while Spock raised an eyebrow in a way that looked like agreement with the doctor’s sentiment.

“You seem to have perked up, Jimmy boy. You want to join in this round?”

Kirk licked his lips. He _did_. Damn these two, but they made him as hot and horny as a teenager. “I would … if you two don’t mind, that is?”

“Of course not!” McCoy exclaimed, while Spock inclined his head and said: “By all means, Jim.”

McCoy sat up with a grunt, and started stripping. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m feelin’ a trifle warm.” Bare to the waist, undoing the fastenings of his belt, he looked over at Kirk. “Say, Jim, why don’t you get those clothes off too? There’s somethin’ I’d like to try …”

Kirk accepted Spock’s help to push himself up off his belly. Kneeling on the bed, he started pulling off his clothes. “What do you have in mind, Bones?”

“Well, I was thinkin’ that I would lie back on the bed, and have you come up here and sit on my face - whadda ya say? Spock can go down on me, and when I get too close, all he has to do is pull away, and you just have to lean down and finish me off.”

Kirk felt his face heating as a bolt of excitement shot through him - _yes! He’d always wanted to try something like this!_ It was something of a fantasy of his.

“I’m game if you are, Bones.” he answered breathlessly. “Spock?”

“Acceptable,” the Vulcan replied, “I believe I shall quite enjoy this.”

McCoy snorted, but he seemed amused rather than irate. He stood and slipped out of his trousers, before lying back down and arranging himself comfortably on the bed. Kirk likewise removed his pants, then crawled up onto the bed next to McCoy. “If I’m too heavy, or you’re at all uncomfortable, you just say the word and I’ll get right off,” he assured his friend. 

“I’ll be fine, Jim. Now, get your ass up here, darlin’. I’ve been wantin’ to do this for a while!”

Kirk eagerly complied, kneeling atop McCoy, with one leg resting either side of the doctor’s head. He felt the older man’s thumbs hook into his cheeks, spreading him wide, as he carefully lowered himself onto McCoy’s face. The next moment a little whimper of pleasure escaped him as he felt the delicious tingle of the doctor’s tongue slowly, carefully probing at his twitching asshole.

“Your blush becomes you, Jim,” Spock told him as he too knelt on the bed, hovering on all fours over McCoy’s legs. He bent and applied himself matter-of-factly to his task, but not without commenting: “I should like to witness it more often.”

Kirk moaned softly, bracing his hands against the mattress, his head hanging. He had to concentrate hard not to start bouncing his ass up and down on McCoy’s face. _It was so good._ He’d always loved having his ass eaten out, whether by a woman or another man, but no one had ever actually suggested that Kirk sit on their face before (though he’s had other people do it to him) and he’d always been just a touch too shy to ask about it - after all, he wasn’t a small man.

But if McCoy was at all uncomfortable, he didn’t show it. Rather, he went at the task with gusto, reducing Kirk to a quivering, whimpering puddle in no time. In front of him, Spock’s head was bobbing up and down on McCoy’s stiff shaft, and Kirk fought back the sudden and almost overwhelming urge to grab the Vulcan by the ears, to use them to guide his head up and down. He clenched his fingers in the sheets instead.

Beneath him, McCoy started to moan. Kirk’s instinctive reaction was to pull away, to get off him and make sure he was alright, but the older man’s fingers tightened on his flesh as soon as he felt Kirk moving. He let go of Kirk’s buttocks, reaching up to seize him hard by the hips and forcibly pull him down instead. Kirk moaned again, and McCoy bucked his own hips upward, straining to push as much of himself as possible into Spock’s willing mouth.

It was over all too soon. Spock pulled away, a long string of saliva connecting his lips to the head over Dr McCoy’s cock, until it finally snapped. Kirk thought it might just be the most debauched thing he had ever seen. The Vulcan sat up, gesturing to Kirk. “Quick, Jim, Leonard nears his climax!”

Kirk swooped down, swallowing as much of McCoy’s cock as he could. He sealed his lips over the slick shaft and _sucked_ with just seconds to spare before McCoy was shooting his load down his captain’s throat. Kirk gulped and swallowed, still moaning softly, as McCoy was still doing wicked, wicked things to his ass with his tongue. It was enough to push Kirk over the edge (again!), splattering McCoy’s belly, crotch and thighs with sticky white cum.

Eventually Kirk let the older man’s twitching, softening dick slip free of his lips and collapsed bonelessly off to the side, exhausted, satiated, and completely and utterly spent. His eyes slipped closed. He gave a small happy ‘mm’ noise as he felt Spock stroke a hand gently through his hair.

“Are you sure that will be enough, Leonard? Is Jim cured?”

“Give me a minute … to get my breath back … and then we’ll take him down to Sickbay and see.”

Kirk must have dozed, but only for a minute or two, for the next thing he knew, Spock and McCoy - both fully dressed and looking totally unrumpled, and not at all like men who’d just partaken in a deliciously dirty threesome - were waking him up to get him dressed and off to Sickbay once more. Kirk followed along quietly - his weariness was returning but it felt … better. He didn’t feel sick, or dizzy, or confused this time. Just tired, a little sore, and blissfully, blissfully fucked out.

He rested on a biobed in Sickbay while McCoy ran his tests and Spock hovered nearby. They didn’t have long to wait, however, before the doctor looked up with a beaming smile.

“All clear, Jim! Your readings are stabilising - the poison in your system has finally been neutralised!”

Kirk sighed with relief, unable to suppress a happy chuckle that soon erupted into full-blown belly-shaking laughter. McCoy soon joined in. Spock did not, but the fond amusement conveyed in his raised eyebrow was there.

When their laughter had finally died down, McCoy came and sat on the edge of Kirk’s bed. Kirk reached out and grasped his friend’s hand, the doctor’s skin warm and calloused and just right against his own. McCoy smiled at him reassuringly.

“Spock, Bones … thank you. For everything.”

“Our pleasure, Jim,” McCoy replied, whilst Spock intoned: “You’re welcome, Jim.”

McCoy looked up at Spock as the Vulcan stepped closer to the bed. “Spock and I … we we’ve been talking. We want you to know that there’s no pressure - but we’d both very much like it if we could continue this …” the doctor’s brow furrowed as he chased after the right words. “I mean, what I’m tryin’ to say is …”

“Jim,” Spock interrupted, his head tilted to the side. “What the good doctor is attempting to ask, is if you would consent to our continued courtship of you - with the utmost discretion, of course. Having looked into the courtship rituals of Earth, I believe an evening meal taken together in your cabin, using candles for illumination, should be our first point of recourse.”

Kirk nodded, trying to fight back the smile threatening to break out across his face, and reply to Spock’s offer with equal quiet aplomb. “Oh, yes. Yes, that does indeed sound like a good place to start - that is, if my doctor will consent to release me from his oppressive prescriptions of salad for the evening?”

McCoy snorted, but his eyes were warm and gentle, and there was a smile on his lips. “I suppose one night off won’t kill you - but you’ll thank me for all those salads one day, you mark my words!”

Spock reached down and clasped Kirk’s other hand, and the three of them sat quietly together for a little while - until the doors to Sickbay _hissed_ open, and Nurse Chapel walked through. All three men immediately let each other go, Spock folding his hands away behind his back, McCoy coughing and hurriedly leaping up, making it look like he was checking Kirk’s readings on the biobed, and Kirk sitting there desperately hoping the warmth he could feel in his face wasn’t a visible blush.

Chapel looked up from the padd she was carrying. “The results of the crew’s quarterly fitness tests, Doctor. Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Captain. Doctor McCoy said you’d had a reaction to that Canaanite sacramental wine. Still, it’s all in a day’s work on this ship, I suppose.”

McCoy took the padd hastily, coughing. “Yes, well, thank you, Christine. I’ll be along to go over these in a minute - I just want a quick word with Jim here.”

Nurse Chapel smiled. “Of course, Doctor.” As she turned, she looked back winsomely over her shoulder at Spock. “It’s a pleasure to see you in Sickbay, Commander. You should visit more often.” With that, she turned and sashayed through to McCoy’s office, the short skirt on her regulation uniform swishing back and forth enticingly.

As soon as she was gone, McCoy turned back to Kirk. “Whadda ya say, Jim? Dinner at 8?”

Kirk didn’t actually know what the time was now, but it didn’t stop him from agreeing. McCoy leaned in and gave him a kiss - no tongues, just a soft, sweet pressing of lips- and clapped Spock on the shoulder on his way out the door. The Vulcan likewise took his leave, to work a shift on the Bridge and let his captain get some much needed rest - but not before pressing two of his fingers against two of Kirk’s. “Until 8,” he murmured softly, his touch leaving a very real wave of warmth flooding up Kirk’s arm long after their digits had parted.

Kirk snuggled down into the surprisingly comfy biobed, sleep already threatening to overcome him, though the _hiss_ of the Sickbay doors closing after Spock had barely even faded. He would need to report what had happened to him on Canaan IV to Starfleet HQ, so that no future visitors there would make the same mistake of participating in their bizarre ceremonies, but he trusted that they would keep the source of their information anonymous … but he would deal with that in the morning. Right now he was going to sleep, and dream of pointed ears and sweet southern drawls and the love-filled future that awaited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've come to the end of our little sexcapade - for now. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I have two ideas for sequels, one TOS and one Reboot, so keep an eye out! Au revoir!


End file.
